


Mirage

by Verasteine



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Angst, Community: consci_fan_mo, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verasteine/pseuds/Verasteine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some nights, Merlin dreams of all that could go wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirage

**Author's Note:**

> At least ConSci_Fan_Mo is conducive to getting me to write again, even if I'm always rushing with the deadline (oh hai thar, last day.) Many thanks to Madtheo, Significantowl, and Misswinterhill for taking on the beta for this. You've all been fantastic. Enjoy.

Some nights, Merlin dreams of Arthur drowning.

It's like the premonition that had visited Morgana has chosen a different person now that it's not come to pass, and it haunts Merlin in the way that it haunted her.

Those nights he cannot sleep, and the mornings after, he stumbles around and is more clumsy than usual. After a month it's happened six times, and on the sixth morning, he is so miserable that he only glares half-heartedly when Arthur laughs as he trips over the carpet, rights the breakfast tray and gets it onto the table with minimal spillage, and then fails to light the fire because his hands shake too much for the flint to strike.

Arthur's laughter stops abruptly, and he gets up. "Merlin?" He comes over to the fireplace and sinks down to his knees by Merlin's side, bumping his shoulder against Merlin's own. "Hey."

Merlin doesn't look at him, because there are tears in his eyes, and the memory, suddenly strong -- _Arthur in the water, laden down by armour, Merlin trying to hoist him up and failing; Arthur going under, and he isn't breathing; Merlin losing him, feeling him slip away_ \-- is in front of his eyes instead of the fireplace he's staring into.

"Here, let me," Arthur says, and his fingers close over the flint and steel, taking them out of Merlin's hands.

The fire roars to life only seconds later, and Merlin shudders.

\--

Some nights, Merlin dreams of Arthur dying at Valiant's hand.

It's like the conversation he'd had with Arthur the night before that fight comes true, and Arthur dies because it is his duty to lead, even if that means his own death.

Those nights, he's restless with fever, as if _he's_ been bitten by snakes instead of Arthur, and in the morning all his muscles are stiff and he needs to use more magic than normal to get through his day. Once, Arthur takes him riding on a solitary patrol, and Merlin doesn't know how he manages to stay seated and not fall asleep, exhausted.

In the end, he doesn't, and it's Arthur's shout that wakes him.

"_Merlin_."

He blinks open sleepy eyes and realises with a jolt he's hanging sideways in the saddle and the only thing keeping him from sliding off is Arthur's arm propping him up.

He jerks upright and pulls away from Arthur, the image in his head so strong -- _Arthur, flushed with fever, dying from the venom; Arthur, unsteady and vision blurred, Valiant's blade thrust into his body; Arthur, crumpling to the ground, lost because Merlin couldn't show the world Valiant's duplicity_ \-- and his muscles protest. He bites his lip, trying to keep hold of the reins, and Arthur's gloved hand closes over his.

"Come on, you idiot, or you'll end up breaking your neck if I leave you like this," Arthur says, harshly but fondly, and rides close alongside again to slide an arm around Merlin's waist.

Merlin understands and colours, but the exhaustion wins out, and he lets Arthur pull him onto his horse. Sitting in front of Arthur, Arthur's left arm holding him steady, his reassuring warmth against Merlin's back and his warm cloak spilling around them, Merlin dozes, lightly and unsteadily, as they ride back to Camelot.

\--

Some nights, Merlin dreams Arthur finds out about his magic.

In some dreams, he never looks at Merlin again; in some he marches him straight to Uther; in others he touches Merlin's face and says, "You have to leave me."

Those nights he spends his time plotting his escape only to realise he doesn't need to plot yet, and still he knows, somewhere deep inside, that one day he'll have only seconds to execute those careful plans.

Because he does make them, those escape plans.

Those mornings, he doesn't look at Arthur, tries to avoid his eyes, until one day Arthur catches him out and sighs in exasperation, "_Merlin_. What's _wrong_ with you?"

Merlin freezes in place, raising his head to look at Arthur, into those blue eyes, the morning sun shining through the windows, and Arthur glowing almost golden, and Merlin blurts out, "You'll hate me."

Arthur reels back, almost like being physically hit, and he frowns. "What are you talking about?"

So Merlin tells him. Later, he thinks it's because he could never refuse Arthur anything, and then he knows he's lying to himself, because that was never a problem. Somewhere, deeper down, he knows it's because he was done waiting, done being afraid, done fearing the loss.

Arthur is silent for a long time, and when Merlin speaks Arthur holds up a hand to stop him. He turns to the window and looks out over the courtyard, and after a long while turns back to look at Merlin.

"I don't want to lose you."

For one second, Merlin thinks those words came out of his own mouth, because they're on his tongue and he can taste them. But Arthur's looking at him with a frown and open eyes, looking a little like he didn't mean to say those words.

"Arthur," Merlin says, and finds more words that need to be said. "Can you-- Can you live with knowing?"

Arthur glances outside again, and Merlin wonders what he sees there. Merlin's execution, or Uther's hand signalling for the axe to drop? Morgana's tears, or the dreadful rift that his death would cause in the castle? "Yes," Arthur says hoarsely.

As much as Merlin wanted freedom from his secret, and security for his future, the next time he sees Arthur in the great hall with his father, he regrets speaking up.

\--

One night, Merlin wakes up, and he knows that something is wrong.

He's no seer, but there's something so terribly, dreadfully wrong in the world, he can taste it in the air like it was set alight by magic itself.

Then he hears it. "_Merlin_..."

It's the dragon calling, and he dresses quickly. When he makes his way down to the cavern, the dragon's voice changes. "_No, go up!_" it says, and Merlin knows, like a bitter cold vice around his heart, where it's sending him.

Arthur's room is quiet, but he goes in anyway, to find Arthur in bed, body twisted in the sheets, sweat on his brow. Merlin's first thought is illness, but when he comes closer and touches Arthur's forehead, he realises there's no fever burning him up.

Arthur's muttering quietly in his sleep, only the occasional word audible, but his face is contorted with emotion. "No," and, "sorry," and, "_please_," and Merlin's never heard Arthur beg.

He kneels by the side of Arthur's bed, reaching out and smoothing Arthur's blond hair from his forehead, shaking his shoulder to wake him. Arthur starts, opening his eyes and pulling away, scrambling to the other side of the bed with his chest heaving to draw in air.

His eyes are darting around and his knuckles are white, and he looks both vulnerable and so very guarded. Merlin holds up his hands in surrender.

"You're-- Where--" Arthur breaks off and scrubs a hand over his face, through his hair, shaking, then fists his hands in the covers.

It's then that Merlin sees it, a poultice, glowing gold with magic under the edge of Arthur's pillow. How it got there, he doesn't know, but he reaches out and tugs it free. Arthur stares at it before staring at him, then demands, "Did you put that there? _Merlin_?"

Merlin shakes his head, as Arthur gets up out of bed and reaches for his sword with a hand that's still trembling a little. Merlin scoots forward then, dropping the poultice, closing his fingers over Arthur's hand on the hilt. "No. Never. Never, Arthur. I sensed it, I woke up from it--" He cuts himself off when he looks sideways and sees the terrible look Arthur gives him.

Arthur tugs himself free, takes two steps over to where the poultice is laying on the floor, and chops it in two with one swipe of his sword.

The golden glow dissipates, and Merlin's restlessness eases, fractionally.

Arthur drops the sword, letting the blade clang on the floor, and Merlin watches as he turns away. "I was--" Arthur breaks off again. "Dreaming. _God_."

He wants to reach for Arthur, but isn't sure. Arthur likes his space at the most normal of times, but something is calling to Merlin, the something that woke him, that sent him to Arthur's side. "Arthur," he says, just to feel the name on his lips. "Arthur, it's all right."

Arthur glances over his shoulder then, and Merlin can see the wetness in his eyes. It's not Arthur's weakness that propels him forward; it's the silent plea, the loneliness, the way Arthur's shoulders are still squared against onslaught even now.

When he goes to Arthur, he watches as Arthur narrows his eyes, and Merlin reaches up, finding the strength to defy every rule he's ever made for himself, and smoothes careful fingers over Arthur's brow, a thumb over his eyelids, his palm cupping Arthur's cheek.

"_Arthur_," he says again, and lays all the strength he has and all the strength Arthur's taught him in his voice.

Arthur's trembling under his hands, and his eyes are red as he looks up to face Merlin.

"Sssh," Merlin hushes, and pulls Arthur forward, slowly, until Arthur comes warily into his arms. When he slides his fingers into the hair at Arthur's nape, Arthur shudders once and presses his face against Merlin's neck.

"God," he whispers, soft, voice breaking a little.

Merlin presses a kiss, hesitantly, behind Arthur's ear. "I'm here," he replies.

Arthur pulls back, looking at him. "Merlin," he says, and after a second's pause, lifts a hand to Merlin's cheek and kisses him.

\--  
_finis._


End file.
